


D. C. al fine

by aegirine



Category: The Beginner's Guide (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:41:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24640276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aegirine/pseuds/aegirine
Summary: Coda sees the Steam page.Short oneshot.
Kudos: 13





	D. C. al fine

**Author's Note:**

> I actually watched the beginning of a playthrough for The Beginner's Guide years ago, but I never actually watched through it all. 
> 
> Big mistake! How did I miss this? I've finally revisited it after going through all my entertainment in quarantine, and I have all sorts of conflicting feelings. 
> 
> So I wrote a bit about it. Hopefully it's a nice little contribution to this fandom.

It was supposed to be over, left to rot as soon as he had clicked 'Send' on that email to Wreden. Done with, buried. _Gone._

But even though he had emptied out his Recycle Bin long ago, Wreden, apparently, had not. 

(And Wreden couldn't have even closed the door when he left, couldn't even say "I should stop" or "maybe there are other things to do", couldn't let sleeping- no, _dead_ dogs lay-)

The Steam page does not change when he opens his eyes again, the screenlight emblazoning itself on his eyes, the final stab in the back from a monster Coda had thought dead.

The Beginner's Guide.

He feels strangely numb. 

He shouldn't look, he knows. Shouldn't even think of looking, leave the scar be, unlike Wreden. 

He doesn't click away. He stares at the rating, the cursive title, the lamp-post (and it was always lamp-posts for Wreden, wasn't it, always answers to fit, like puzzle pieces, into his beautifully crafted 2-D 'analysis'), stares like there was a meaning in the work when he knows there is none for him.

_Leave,_ his brain insists. _You'll only get hurt if you start._

But his body never moves a muscle. And he hates it, hates that Davey still has some measure of power over him even now. Davey, who took and took and took, twisted Coda's work into whatever shapes he needed, ransacked Coda's being in search of something that was never there in the first place, and left him empty as a paltry replacement.

Coda hates himself more, for the quiet part of him that still longs for Davey's jokes, his smiles, the careful peeks over his shoulder. The utter adoration for his games. The absolute joy in his expression. Coda had done that. Coda had made Davey _happy_.

But there had been false doors and revolving mirrors and smoke screens that Davey had put up, whether intentionally or mistakenly, and he had never looked for Coda as Coda. Never actually looked at him. Took the pedestal he had placed Coda-the-machine on and tried to use it for himself.

And that was the crux of it, wasn't it?

The fragment that sees Davey as his friend weeps and wishes and grieves. He allows that piece of himself a brief moment, keeps the browser open, stops and stares.

Even then, it knows- he knows- that they're done. There was never any doubt.

Coda slowly, gently pushes the thoughts away, herds it back into the recesses of his mind. Leads it through his double doors and locks it shut.

And at last, feeling absolutely nothing at all, he closes the window.


End file.
